Goodbye to You
by Mockorange7
Summary: Duo returns from a mission with more than he expects. A Duo/Heero/Wufei story!
1. Chapter 1

_November, AC 204_

* * *

"What had you planned to do?"

Face turned away, Duo didn't answer.

"You were going to go anyway, weren't you?" Sally's voice registered shock and anger, even while it remained flatly professional. "Have you even told them what's going on?"

Again, Duo remained silent.

"Don't you think they deserve to know? Have you considered how it might affect them? Did you even stop to think about them if something happened on the way?"

Stubbornly, Duo still said nothing. Frustrated, Sally threw up her hands and her voice lowered to an icy calm. "Well, then, if you don't tell them, I will."

That—finally--got a reaction, as Sally had known it would. "You wouldn't! Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?" Duo's eyes were dark with anger as he bit out the words.

"So sue me." Sally's voice remained implacably calm.

Duo deflated instantly in the face of her threat, a threat they both knew was made neither lightly nor idly. "Please Sal," he begged. "Please don't …"

"Tomorrow, Duo," said Sally. "You have until tomorrow. Or they'll hear it from me. It's your choice."

* * *

_Three years ago_

Once upon a time, Duo had been told threesomes were wrong. Well, not in so many words—mostly, he'd been taught that flirting with girls unless you planned to get married was a sin and when one of the kids asked—Anna had been ten, and Duo was pretty sure she'd turned tricks before ending up at the orphanage—they were taught that sex outside marriage was a sin, and that boys having sex with men was a sin. So it kind of went without saying that you couldn't carry on with more than one person at the same time.

Father Maxwell had been so sad while he'd explained it all to them. Duo didn't know until afterwards that he'd asked Sister Helen to have a quiet discussion with Anna later that night, had only found out when he'd realized Anna had had to do an extra ten Hail Mary's every evening for the next week. Duo had been a little angry about that—Anna had only done a few tricks; she hadn't wanted to, she hadn't done it regularly, and she had only done it for food, not drugs. But he had held his tongue. Anna hadn't seemed too upset about the penance, and she hadn't asked his opinion. Besides, when he'd started to say something, she'd very clearly told him to shut up and mind his own business. She'd been two years older than him, and all the kids knew better than to mess with Anna.

But then the orphanage had burnt down, and he'd ended up back on the streets, and this time without Solo's protection. He'd had to do several questionable things, and some things that he knew were plain wrong, and lots of things he hadn't wanted to do at all, before he began his training as a teenaged terrorist. Being asked to kill hadn't seemed the worst of the things he'd been asked to do over the last thirteen years.

Anna had been one of the many who'd died in the fire.

So, even though he'd been taught that Father Maxwell's God abhorred anything but sex outside a conventional marriage, L2 and the subsequent war had taught him that a moral compass needed to be somewhat malleable to survive. And with all he'd seen and done, he'd never quite been able to bring himself to believe in that loving, merciful, compassionate God that Father Maxwell had told him about all those years ago. Sin or no, if it didn't hurt anyone, and was enjoyable, Duo didn't much care.

So when Wufei approached him—assuring him that Yuy was fine with it, and knew all about it—and as soon as Heero followed up and confirmed it--he was ok with it. He loved them both, even if he wasn't in love with them at the time—and the sex was good. Comfortable and steady—not to mention hot. Both Fei and Heero were damned fine looking men, and if they wanted him, even for a short time, who was he to object? Take what you can, Maxwell, he'd told himself, before they moved on. As he knew they would.

After a few months, he'd moved into their place. At their invitation. Because his place wasn't much, Heero had said calmly, reciting the facts--and this way it was more convenient, as Wufei casually pointed out. They were right, and Duo didn't hesitate, or ask questions—or refuse. Even though he wondered why, even though he'd imagined they'd have long since moved on, even though he felt he should've said no--because he had expected them to have long since moved on, and wasn't entirely sure why they hadn't—and even as he could feel the shadow of Shinigami grow darker. But he never outwardly let on as to any of his misgivings. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth", Sister Helen used to say. Wufei and Heero had always been up front and direct with him, they were right, and it was no use pretending otherwise. It never paid to worry about tomorrow, Solo had taught him, when you were hungry today.

That had been almost two years ago. Heero was_ someone_, now, at the Preventers—an officer, a gentleman, an all around standup guy, especially now that he'd settled down some after the war. Wufei had reverted to a large extent to what Duo imagined he'd been before the wars and his Gundam training—cultured, a bit dreamy, quiet and reserved, an academic and an idealist. And him?

He couldn't seem to shake the wars, and his past didn't leave him much to fall back on. He wondered, sometimes, why'd survived, why God had let him—he didn't have much to offer in peacetime. He did odd jobs—did a stint on L2, worked salvage yard with Hilde for a while--mechanic work, refused working full-time for the Preventers because he knew he didn't have the discipline, and couldn't, after his time as Oz's guest, bring himself to work for anyone associated with Oz. Just … couldn't. Heero had brought it up one night, when Wufei was late at work, after Duo had successfully completed yet another of the special contract missions that they offered him from time to time, but Duo hadn't wanted to discuss it, and when Heero had persisted and refused to be distracted by sex, and when even a flat refusal to discuss the issue didn't seem to budge the guy, Duo just stood up and walked out of the room. He'd found an alley to sleep in, come back in the morning, showered and came down for breakfast and acted like nothing was any different.

Duo couldn't quite figure out why he'd come back.

Heero hadn't raised it again, hadn't even tried.

So he moved in with them, because it wasn't like, as they suggested, he had much better to do. And if he resented his comparative lack of stability, lack of much to offer; if he thought they felt sorry for him, or their offer was motivated by pity, he made sure he didn't let it affect his behaviour. He made sure he contributed as much as he could—and to add to that, made sure he was always cheerful, and upbeat, and helpful around the house. He fixed things, cleaned things, cleaned up after himself, even cooked to the best of his ability—and acted generally just like he really belonged. He made sure he didn't bring his bad moods home, tried as much as he could to be sensitive to theirs--and if every now and again Heero noticed something was off, or 'Fei gazed at him curiously, he ignored it and distracted them into forgetting as well.

And every now and again, he let himself, when he was warm and fed and comfortable in their large bed, let himself pretend. Let himself pretend that they loved him, and he wasn't just a spice in their relationship. Let himself pretend that it had been almost a three whole years, and two with them living together, and despite his bad habits, they hadn't gotten rid of him yet—so maybe it was more than just a passing fancy on their part. That he was not just a convenience, but that they really cared for him, and weren't just waiting to get rid of him. Let himself pretend that when they woke him and soothed him after the nightmares that were an embarrassing weakness the other two did not seem to suffer meant that they cared, not just that it had disturbed their sleep or was simple kindness.

Let himself pretend that even if he didn't try as hard as he did to be cheerful and upbeat and helpful that they'd keep him around anyway; that he wasn't just acting, but that he'd actually found a place to belong.

So, yeah, when people said threesomes were wrong—Duo couldn't give much of a shit at all.

* * *

_Six months ago_

He'd been offered another of those super-secret missions for the Preventers—he didn't want to work for them full time, but they offered him lucrative contracts and he took them, whenever he felt short on cash. He didn't need a lot, but he hated to feel like a leech, and Wufei and Heero both lived a lot more lavishly than he was used to. So, he'd said yes when they came, even though he hated the soul-draining nature of whatever they usually wanted him to do. This particular mission one was on L3. Duo had never been to L3 before.

He'd had no idea that an alternate strain of the plague that had hit L2 was still virulent on L3. Had had no idea that most children—except, possibly, the street rats of L2, almost twenty years ago—were routinely inoculated as infants against the plague.

Duo had contracted the plague on L2, but he'd been one of the lucky ones. He'd survived, not much the worse for wear. What he hadn't known was that the plague had left his immune system weakened. And in the last days of the L3 mission he'd grown exhausted and stressed, forgetting to eat properly without Heero there to nag him and Wufei around to lecture him, so focussed on going home he stayed up late and woke early in an effort to hurry things along. Leaving his immune system even more vulnerable to attack than usual.

But when he picked up the bug and returned to Earth with it, he knew he was run down, bone-tired, and heartsick. He chalked up his weakness, his feeling of being "off", even the pain as a side-effect of the mission. He usually felt like crap after those kinds of missions, anyway, even if he managed to return injury-free which, incidentally, he hadn't this time. It was part of the reason Heero and Wufei always hated it when he went, and always complained, verbally and non-verbally, when he returned. Duo figured their upset was mostly because whenever he came back, he wasn't up to sex at all for a couple of weeks, usually preferring to sleep alone for a while, after. They never pressured him about the sex, but they never let him get away with sleeping alone for too long, even if he knew the nightmares woke them up. Duo didn't get it, especially as they weren't getting any from him.

Anyway, that's the long story of how he didn't realize he'd picked up the virus, not until it was much too late.


	2. Chapter 2

_Twelve weeks ago_

* * *

"So, you got a magic pill, Sal?"

"Duo, how long has this been going on?"

"Um, I don't know … I was fine on that mission, and fine when I came back … you know that, you saw the results, everything checked out, so … maybe a couple of weeks or something? So, tell me what I got, and whatever it is you're going to give me, can you make it cherry-flavoured?

"Duo, what inoculations did you receive as a child?"

"Not sure I did, Sal. I can't remember that far back. What's with the twenty questions?"

"I'm not sure yet. I have to do some checking. I want you to go have some blood work done, then and make an appointment for next week. We should know more then."

* * *

_That evening_

Heero was coming home that night. He'd had a conference out of town, and Wufei was anxious, fidgeting with dinner preparations. Duo was helping, but distractedly; 'Fei kept having to remind him to stir the sauce or be careful not to put the rice pot down without a hotplate.

And then Heero was home and everything became a whirl of activity as they greeted him and took his coat and then really welcomed him home and made sure he was ok (which was a remnant of the wars none of them could shake) before he shook them off so he could wash before they all settled down to eat.

And then they were eating, and Heero was telling them all about his mission, and then the talk flowed to …

What it always did. The plan to move to L5. L5, where the atmosphere was slightly heavier than Earth's, where Wufei's ancient home waited for him, and where Heero had the opportunity to head his own section of the Preventers. Une had decided that the time was now, encouraging Heero to leave sooner rather than later, and Wufei was telling them he had already tendered his resignation at the university and the specifics of when he could leave ….

Duo jumped up, grabbing dishes, calling out "I'll clear!" as he dashed into the kitchen. Heero had cooked, Wufei was tired; he knew the other two wouldn't think anything of it.

He came back, barely ten minutes later, but the two of them were looking at him oddly.

"What's with you? asked Heero, abruptly.

"Noth … I can't come with you." He blurted the words without really meaning to.

He couldn't lie. Now that it was said, there was no way to take back the words. In the moments that followed, Duo found he didn't want to look at the faces of the other two. He wasn't sure what their reaction would be—anger, indifference, frustration, pleasure—and he didn't want to know. Instead, he found a spot just north of Wufei's head, and focused on it. This was the moment he'd been dreading, but it was ok. He would just tell them, let them know it was ok—he had a plan, he wasn't going to hold them up—and he absolutely wouldn't think about getting left behind again. No! It wasn't like they were leaving him behind, anyway, because it wasn't like he was doing anything more than crashing here with them for a while. They hadn't led him to expect—and he'd been careful, not presuming anything—and so, it wasn't anything he shouldn't expect, and if he could just talk quickly enough, it would be over before he knew it. They'd be fine, they wouldn't even miss him. He knew that. They might not have even really wanted him to go. They'd been together long before he'd ever come along, they had common interests and goals. He knew they liked him, and he'd spiced things up for them a bit—or at least he'd tried—but now all he was was deadweight.

The room was silent, he realized, daring a glance. Both of the others were staring expectantly at him, shock and confusion across their faces, and none of the reaction he'd been expecting. The silence stretched. Wufei opened his mouth a couple of times, but said nothing; Heero, damn him, just waited impassively.

Duo hated silence; he rushed to fill it.

"Sally says I can't—I'd been planning to come, honest, but she said I couldn't and then she blocked my flight papers so I really can't right now and I just found out and then she told me that she was going to tell you tonight unless I did and I because of the whole flight thing I had to tell you anyway and you need to know and I figure its better coming from me than her anyway and so …"

More silence.

"It's not contagious, at all, if that's what you're worried about, it's some kind of infection more than viral that way, so … anyway, I really want to come, and I'd have seen if I couldn't get round the flight papers thing but even if I did it'd be a while and by then you guys will probably have already gotten set up and then you could decide if you really had room for me and stuff … and it isn't like you really would need me so you can see by then and so ... I'm sorry. But it's not like this could've lasted forever, anyway, I guess. I can help take care of things here, though, on the upside, you know, mail and stuff, or whatever you need, and I'm already looking into maybe a small place downtown … look, you shouldn't have to change anything, but you might have to re-adjust a little … maybe get a smaller place, since I can't help with the rent .. uh …"

"Duo. Look at me." Heero's voice was like a jolt of ice water down his back, and it made Duo pause, raising his eyes slowly to the other boy. "What, exactly, did Sally say." Heero's voice was precise, measured, and deliberate, each word forced out separately.

Duo gulped. Heero sounded _pissed_. He tried to explain. "Well .. it's like this, remember that last mission where …"

"Duo. The short answer." Wufei, bluntly.

He gave up. "I picked up what seems to be some kind of a virus,." He said quietly. But Heero raised an eloquent eyebrow, and 'Fei was glaring, arms crossed, in a silent demand for elaboration, and so he continued. "Sally's got me on some stuff--and as I said, she absolutely guaranteed I wasn't contagious or else I'd have been quarantined or at least moved out of here because I wouldn't put you guys at risk like that--but the drugs haven't quite kicked in yet, and Sally said gravity and atmosphere changes will mess with my breathing right now, so she doesn't think travelling's such a good idea, you know Sal, she's always thinking worst-case scenario—and she's worried the heavier atmosphere on L5 would be a problem even if the traveling wasn't. So." He paused again, but neither of the other two were saying a thing.

Bravely, swallowing a gulp, he tried again to smooth things over. "It wasn't like I cared—I mean, I'm pretty hardy—you both know I'm tougher than I look—I'd have been fine, and I didn't want to hold you up, but she blocked my travel papers, you know how women tend to overreact… " Duo tried to smile, to appeal to 'Fei at least because he could no longer look at the mask of Heero's face, but the impassive look he was getting even from Wufei in return made him stumble to a halt. He stared at his feet and his heart sank. They were mad at him. _Really_ mad. He'd at least wanted the last few days to be pleasant, but it looked now like that wasn't going to happen. He shouldn't have even tried to go with them—they hadn't needed him, had had to adjust all their plans to accommodate him, and now they had to readjust again at the last minute. He should have just told them in the first place he wasn't going. It was all his fault.

"So you were going to come anyway?" Heero's voice was like ice.

"Well …" Duo squirmed a little. The way Heero said it made it sound like a stupid plan.

"She had to threaten him. He wasn't planning on telling us, were you, Maxwell?" Trust Wuffles to add in his two credits just when they weren't really needed.

"I … uh, well … I didn't think I really needed to bother you with … " Apparently, he'd screwed up more than he thought, because both of them were giving him the kind of glares that promised not just death, but messy, bloody death.

Then Wufei's expression changed, and he sighed. He looked suddenly exhausted, and when he spoke, he sounded tiredly resigned. Duo cursed himself—Fei had been so happy moments ago, and here he was, ruining things. He opened his mouth again to explain, but Wufei cut him off.

"Maxwell. How did you think this wouldn't change things?" Wufei sounded almost like he was talking to himself. Like Duo was too stupid to possibly provide a reason. He tried anyway.

"I … I don't want to stand in your way, or anything—I mean I wouldn't. Really. You have to believe me, I had been planning to come anyway, I mean, assuming you both wanted me to, but then Sally, you know how she is … so I figure I'll find a place to rent here instead until I can manage a commercial flight. No big."

"Duo, shut up. I'm calling Sally. I think she has some explaining to do." Heero was moving toward the vid-phone. Duo lunged for it, cutting Heero off. Call Sally? What?

"I told you everything! There's nothing else to talk about!" Now that he'd told them, he needed them to just stop talking about it, and he certainly didn't need Sally adding her own earful. He'd done what he had to do; it was over. He wanted to enjoy his evening, and stop focusing on … well, he wanted to stop talking about it.

Of course, wanting or wishing rarely got results, hadn't Solo told him that often enough?

"Of course there is," said Heero calmly and infuriatingly. "Your treatment plan, for starters."

"Didn't you hear me?" Duo couldn't control the desperate rise of his voice. "I can't come with you. Duo felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Hadn't Heero been _listening? _Calling Sally wasn't going to help, and she'd probably go one the way she had lectured him in all those appointments. It's not like he'd left out anything important, anyway. All Sally would do is confirm what he's already said, but with more unnecessary detail.

He wondered, for a horrible second, if they don't believe him. If they think he's lying. If they think he made all this up because … well, he doesn't know why they'd think he'd make all this up. To get out of going? But he wanted to go. He still _wanted _to go. He just couldn't.

Duo was rapidly cycling towards anger. He tried to get to the phone, but Heero had stepped in his way.

"Do you hear some noise, Yuy? Because I certainly don't." Wufei had begun dialing the number while Heero continued to block Duo's path.

"I don't know why you're being like this! I didn't mean to mess up your plans—and I'm not going to. You guys didn't need me anyway—I know you'll need to adjust slightly, I know it'll be inconvenient, but …"

"Duo. You're ill. You should have told us." Heero's voice was steady.

What? That wasn't the point. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had it all rehearsed in his head. This was … the world was spinning, and for a moment, Duo felt like he was going to black out. He had to take a moment to breathe, and when the world faded back in, Heero was still speaking.

" … but now that we know, you think we're just going to leave you here?"

"What other choice is there?" Duo almost wailed the question. He was suddenly tired and bewildered, and just didn't have the energy to fight with them. He didn't _want _to fight with them. They'd be going soon, and …

"We don't go."

The earth shifted under his feet. Duo blinked stupidly at Heero. "What?"

"You heard me."

Heero was way too calm; Duo wondered if he was dreaming. This sickness made him tired, and sometimes if he didn't focus, he missed things. He tried again.

"What did you say?"

"He really thought we'd leave him behind." Wufei's tone was -- incredulous.

Duo shook his head to clear it. He had to be hallucinating. Or dreaming. None of this was real. They were both staring at him. How long had they been staring at him? Suddenly, words bubbled in his throat.

"But you've been planning this for so long! It's Wufei's dream, and yours too. You have to go. Really. I want you to go. Even if I can't come, you need to go! Don't worry about me, either, because you know me. I'll be fine."

"Yes, and once Sally confirms that, we won't have a problem. But I want to discuss it with Sally first." Heero's voice was calm, firm, and implacable.

"Heero, please, you …" He didn't know why he was panicking, only that he _was_.

"Are you trying to get rid of us?" demanded Wufei, turning away from the phone as it continued to ring Sally's number, and turning towards Duo.

"What? No! I just … you … I always knew I was the third wheel, you never really needed me. You don't need to change all your plans around just because you feel sorry for me." The last was muttered, his face turned away.

"What, my dear idiot, gave you that idea?" Wufei's voice held genuine surprise, and not a small amount of affection, as he moved forward, holding Duo in place by simply wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

Heero's response was less affectionate. "Idiot. I'm annoyed with you—I don't feel sorry for you. And third wheel? You think we'd have tolerated any third wheel as annoying as you? Moron."

"Wufei. It's late. What can I do for you?" That was Sally, suddenly on the vidscreen, practical and to the point.

"Duo told us. We need details, and treatment parameters." That was Heero, equally direct.

Duo wondered sourly why Heero and Sally never got together. They'd likely be in bliss, mapping out five year plans till they were both ninety.

Sally looked relieved—so relieved, in fact, that she actually started babbling. "Thank God you two know now. Duo hasn't been compliant with any treatment plan so far. Do you know he'd been planning to leave against medical advice? He said if he was dying anyway, he—he just wanted to be with you two, and he said it wouldn't matter if the journey killed him. You …"

"Dying?" Heero looked sharply at Duo, and then back at the view screen, before barking, "How long? How long has this been going on?"

Duo gulped. Heero wasn't looking at him, and he looked, if possible, even more pissed than before.

Sally's voice was clear as she reported, "He was diagnosed two weeks ago with suranonucleosis, but he's been complaining of symptoms since before he came to see me at the end of August. The virus can lie dormant for a while, because we did a full medical after the mission, and it didn't come up then, and because it's so rare nowadays, we dismissed it. When he came in August, we didn't even screen for it initially. He was diagnosed a little over two months ago. We didn't screen for it initially, because we didn't think of it at all, but Duo hadn't had one of the childhood inoculations we just assumed he'd had, and that apparently makes him more susceptible--our research is now taking that into account. Can't you see the weight he's lost?"

Duo _was_ thin. But then Duo had always been thin. Heero had thought it was stress, or whatever—he'd noticed his lover had lost a little weight, noticed that he'd been reassigned to engineering, mostly a desk job, in the last few weeks—but now, really looking at him, Heero could see what he'd been denying for weeks. There was something really wrong.

And it wasn't that he hadn't noticed. It was that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge what he had seen.

It was starting to sink in why Duo was so freaked out. This wasn't a bug, or something that would go away in a few days, or a couple of weeks. This might … he refused to think about it.

Looking over at Wufei, Heero could see the same horrified realization dawning in those fathomless dark eyes.

Duo, on the other hand, was pissed. Things were changing in ways he hadn't expected, and Shinigami hated situations he couldn't control. "Duo," said Sally slowly, turning to the braided man, "I know you're mad at me, I know you think I've crossed the line …"

"You have!" Duo's eyes flashed hurt and betrayal. He didn't want them to feel sorry for him, for how he grew up and what he hadn't had. He'd survived worse; he'd survive this too. There was nothing wrong with him--he was just as good as they were, damnit!

"… but I'm not just your doctor, I'm your friend too—as well as Heero's and Wufei's. I'm sorry if I did the wrong thing, but I care about you all. I truly apologize if I hurt you, but I had to do what I thought was best."

Appalled at the time already lost, and scared by what he was hearing, Wufei didn't have time for babbling women or their apologies. "What is the treatment plan?" he demanded. He needed a plan. He'd make Maxwell, for once, stick to it. Damned irritating bastard. This wasn't just, it wasn't fair, it wasn't _right. _If he'd just told them …

Wufei and Heero both dragged their attention back to the screen, as Sally began explaining. "You need to …

*****************


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

_A/N: Sorry, I had this chapter written, but forgot to upload it-a kind review reminded me of this story! As always, comments are welcomed, be they positive, negative, or confused! Thanks for reading :-)_

_

* * *

_And they did. It didn't help that Sally had turned to Heero and Wufei, outlining everything as if dealing with Duo directly was no longer required—hell, he even left the room for a few minutes and none of them so much as noticed. And then after that-and almost worse-rather than the dreaded pity, they showed him no mercy at all. Between the two of them, thought Duo bitterly—not to mention the all-encompassing powers of the Preventers' Human Resources department on their side (independent or no, the Preventers still had rules about who they'd contract with)-they'd put Duo on a strict schedule, despite his wailing. He had a "regulation" breakfast before they let him go to work, he had to take or promise to have a healthy lunch, he wasn't allowed to stay late, and they made sure he ate a nutritious dinner. He was allowed anything he wanted to eat, after he took his medication, and if he ate all of his meal—because Duo, with his background, usually ate lightly and with his illness, tended to eat even more lightly than usual, although he'd always had a sweet tooth—but Duo rarely managed to eat the entirety of any meal they'd prescribed, and even when they began encouraging him to eat the dessert anyway, he found he rarely could. They made him take naps. Enforced a bed time. If he went out with Quat or Tro or anyone at all, they made sure that whoever he was with made sure he complied with the plan—or that Duo had promised to do so in advance. They went with him to his appointments with Sally.

It was as if, having put a lot of energy into actively ignoring him before, now they concentrated all their attention on him. It was driving Duo mad.

Duo had spent his life being ignored, chattering and acting in ways that made him inconspicuous or dismissible. He was used to babbling on, and having most of his inner circle learn to tune him out. He never really expected them to pay attention—it was, after all, part of the _point._ And of course, for most of his life, there hadn't been anyone who'd had the time or energy or willingness to pay that much attention to him, unless he was actively seeking it out—which, he admitted, from time to time he did. He wasn't now. He just wanted to be left alone. Only Dr. G. had paid much attention—and that was more to Duo as lab rat, than to Duo himself.

But neither Heero nor Wufei would allow it. His contract with the mechanics shop he worked at ended at the end of the month, and at their urging he didn't renew it, giving in and rationalizing it wouldn't matter because they both tended to work long hours, and his illness _was_ sapping his energy. And suddenly, Wufei and Heero began to be home more, were home a _lot, _in fact, and were difficult to avoid. Not even as a child, weak and suffering from pneumonia at the orphanage, had he been fussed over anything even close to the combined fussing power of two stoic Gundam pilots. Explaining, over and over again—he wasn't complaining, he was just explaining—that he didn't expect or want them to care for him, or nurse him, or feed him, ever, was met with curt demands to be quiet. Privately, he admitted that the fussing was kind of nice, on those days he was feeling week and feverish. But he certainly didn't want, or need, them to notice every breath he took, or every bite he ate, or try to anticipate needs he didn't think he even had. Almost as if he couldn't take care of himself. As if they didn't trust him to do it, when he'd been doing it for _years_.

But what he wanted didn't matter so much. Because when Heero and Wufei paid attention, it was like … well, basically it _was_ having two of Preventers' finest on his personal case. He was Shingami, and a master of illusion, but—while he might have managed to fool one, together? Nothing could fool them. Moving things around on his plate earned him a glare. Pretending to sleep earned him a lecture on justice. Hiding when he hurt got him threats and disappointed recriminations. The situation was growing intolerable.

He didn't know if it was better when he thought they didn't love him, or now when he could see … that at least they believed they did, and so he couldn't even get pissed about it.

Normally, he just would have walked out. But he didn't want to do that either, even though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't like it was his fault they'd suddenly decided to pretend to love him. Even so. He'd laid in bed during "naptime" one day, feeling all of three years old and blindingly angry, enumerating all the reasons why leaving was the best thing to do six ways to Sunday.

But he couldn't bring himself to actually _do_ it.

Knowing that if he didn't leave, his only remaining option was to actually _put up_ with their ridiculous treatment.

So he endured it, trying not to complain or look ungrateful. Gradually, he got more used it—either that, or fighting them became too hard. Gradually, they became less militant about it—they asked him what he wanted to eat, and he more or less got it; he slept whenever he wanted and over time, they took to waking him up from naps. Time blurred.

* * *

He wasn't getting better. He tried, and every day he told himself that he'd finally shake this thing—but it had been three months, his own body kept betraying him past his ability to ignore, and Sally had no news of a cure. His "bad" days were starting to outnumber the good ones. Sometimes, he railed against the extended confinement, even while realizing in some part of himself that it wasn't like it was their fault he was sick, and they were only trying to help-but more upsetting was the way it started to become habit for him to sleep most of the day away; started to become too much effort to try to hide the pain or the exhaustion that had begun to dog his days.

Thing was, that the virus he'd caught was an engineered one, left over from some pre-colony fight, which made it hard to treat—but Duo, because he managed to do shit like this, had caught some odd mutation of the virus, making it resistant to even the known treatment options. Quatre had a whole lab working on the treatment, and even then, they'd not come up with much. And he was tired-tired, of having his blood drawn and his body poked and his fluids monitored.

Duo knew that eventually, they'd have to leave him behind. He hated this waiting, this _stalling_. How long could they continue this—this holding pattern? Something had to give. He caught them talking, sometimes, voices low but faces intense, and he wasn't sure what they were planning. They stopped when they saw him, and they never told him.

But one day, he woke from a nap, drifting a little and not fully awake, hearing voices in the background. He had to concentrate to recognize them, even if they were almost as familiar as his own. Had to concentrate harder to sort the sounds into meaning.

" … he's still so thin. I've tried everything. I even brought home some of those truly disgusting doughnuts he used to love—you know, the really sweet, greasy kind, that only taste good hot?" Heero was rambling, Duo noticed with surprise. Heero never rambled.

"I saw them. Did he eat any?" Wufei's tone was gentle, and Duo felt Wufei's touch lightly on his face, his hair. He would have smiled, wanted to lean into it, if it wouldn't have given him away.

He would have opened his eyes, actually. If he'd only had any energy.

"Half of one, and that's it. I had to throw the rest away. I hate those things, and they taste godawful cold."

Duo remembered the donuts, too. They were his favourites, and he had been craving them for days, begging either Heero or Wufei to let him have just one—but the day that Heero had finally caved and brought them, he'd been feeling so nauseous that even the sight of greasy sugary rounds was enough to turn his stomach. He'd done his best, for Heero's sake—but even that half had come up again a short time later. Heero didn't know about that, though. He'd been quiet and had managed to clean up after himself before either of them had seen. As he'd complained to Quatre repeatedly, those two tended to overreact to everything in the worst way …

He drifted for another moment then, but Heero was still speaking, and Duo forced himself to focus. " … and he's still losing weight. If this keeps up …" Heero sounded like he was crying. That wasn't right. Duo wanted to sit up and protest. He would in a minute; he just needed a minute.

"He's strong, Heero. Sally said he had a better than 60% chance of survival. And Maxwell, for all his faults, is a fighter." Wufei's voice was thick, and he sounded like someone trying to convince himself _I'll be fine, guys_, he wanted to say, his efforts in forcing his uncooperative body to cooperate futile, _don't worry about me_ …

"He was willing to give up, WuFei. Didn't you hear Sally? He'd have tried to travel all the way to L-5, despite all the shifting gravity, and when she wanted to stop him, was angry with her because he'd accepted that being too sick to travel meant being sick and left alone here. He expected that we would! I can't believe he'd have even thought …" Heero's voice was frustrated and despairing, and it made Duo ache to hear it. He wanted to fix it, wanted to but couldn't figure out _how_.

"I know. I caught him looking at me, a few weeks ago, and then I made him tell me what was on his mind. He wanted me to talk to you, explain how he really didn't mind if we left. He said he knew how important the dream was to us—and I almost hit him trying to convince him that there was simply no choice to be made. Even now, I don't think he quite believes us."

Wufei sounded annoyed and calm and sad, all at the same time, and it was more than Duo could take. He managed a small noise, and forced his voice to work. "I believe you! I do. I just … "

"How long have you been awake?"

Duo wrenched his eyes open, trying to hide his wince against the pain of the bright light, grateful when Wufei dimmed them slightly, smiling his thanks before he realized he was still in trouble. "Uh …"

The two of them timed his naps, and if he didn't sleep long enough, they'd send him up for another one after dinner—that is, if they let him down for dinner in the first place. He had to earn all of those privileges by "complying with treatment"—which treatment, he frequently noted, seemed to be exactly in line with the whim of whoever he was speaking to at the time-and even then, only if they _then _decided he was strong enough. They'd stopped taking him at his word when he insisted he was fine—even though they knew he never lied. Misleading or omitting, he firmly believed, was not the same thing as lying _at all_, and anyway, _their_ criteria for everything was vague and unpredictable at best—he'd managed to get them to let him downstairs at times he felt barely strong enough to sit up, and at times when he felt completely well, they'd force him to stay in bed. It was frustrating.

"Maxwell—Duo, you have to start resting properly. You've barely been up here for an hour. Why don't—you're in pain, aren't you?" Wufei's eyes had narrowed. "What hurts?"

Busted. He couldn't squirm out without lying outright, not when asked directly like that. He struggled to sit upright, ignoring the wave of dizziness, but failed. Neither of his lovers made any move to either help or hinder him; they'd learned to let him be at these times.

"Just a bit of a headache, 'Fei. Nothing to …" But they were already handing him a couple of small white pills, and he bet these meds were the kind that would make him sleepy. He grimaced before taking them obediently. Truth was, the pounding in his head was exhausting, and he was too tired to fight them properly. They'd win anyway. They always did.

"I know you think I …"

"Duo, we love you. If we haven't told you before, listen to us now. We love you and there's no way we're going anywhere without you. So stop trying to talk us out of whatever it is you think you should be talking us out of, and focus on getting better. Please? We need you to get better."

"I … I'm trying, but-you'll be fine without me, I keep trying to tell you …"

"Are you listening to anything I say? I won't be fine without you. Neither will Wufei. Believe me when I tell you this."

He wanted to respond, wanted to explain-but the meds were kicking in, and he could feel his body shutting down. There were voices, and then Heero was settling him back down, drawing the covers over him, saying something he couldn't make out and stroking his hair soothingly. Duo blinked a little against the light, before closing his eyes with a sigh, giving into the warmth and the soothing feel of Heero's touch.

* * *

_ I don't yet have an end, so I can't tell you either way! But I'll try to work on this again, and figure something out. Thanks again for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

_

* * *

_When he woke again, his headache had faded to a dullness he could ignore, and he felt warm and comfortable, his limbs heavy and relaxed. The room was dark and quiet. He wondered what time it was, but he didn't have the strength to sit up and find out without some effort. He thought about trying, though—it was probably time for some meal or other, and if he didn't get himself up, they would probably force him to eat in bed and then go back to sleep. Sure he was tired—but he hated the feeling of staying in bed all day, hated the idea of letting time slip by like this.

The door creaked and Heero's voice interrupted his whirling thoughts. "Good! You're awake! How's the headache?"

"Better, Hee-chan!" Duo turned his head in the direction of the voice and smiled brightly, squinting at the light spilling from the open door. "Is it time for me to come down for dinner?"

"We thought we could bring it up to … ok. One second." Heero came in all the way, and leant down to pick Duo up, wrapping one blanket around him.

"Heero!" Duo protested, closing his eyes against the rush of dizziness at being lifted. "I could …"

"Wufei is saying I should learn compromise," grunted Heero, readjusting his grip on the squirming Duo but not breaking stride. "I'm compromising. Also, you called me Hee-chan again. You know better. For that, you can eat on the couch."

"Hmph." Duo tried to sound disgruntled, but couldn't hide his smile. Eating on the couch had always been a treat, even before he'd been ill—Heero had rules about such things. So he subsided obediently, letting his head rest against Heero's shoulder and closing his eyes. Heero's heartbeat was strong under his ear, and being carried like this was making him a little light-headed. Heero was probably right—despite his fussing, he wasn't sure he could have made it down on his own. He didn't want Heero to know that—but he was starting to wonder if he was fooling anyone. He used to be good at running and hiding—but Heero and Wufei knew him better than anyone ever had. He couldn't lie, it was hard to run when he was too weak to get out of bed, and between the two of them, they'd find anywhere he could think of to hide.

They kept saying they loved him. But Duo knew them, he reminded himself—both were kind men at heart, and who didn't pity a dying man? Maybe they even did love him, but that didn't mean they would wait forever. They might be kind, they might even love him, but they weren't fools. He didn't love fools. He loved survivors. And Heero and Wufei—both were strong, and both were survivors. They'd had to be, and Duo respected that about them. He was the idiot who made the wrong choices, always—but the two of them were smart, not sentimental.

They deserved to be happy, to live their dream. It wasn't their fault that he was sick, or that he'd begun to have feelings he had no right to have. That they stayed … that was his fault.

Still … they hadn't known he was listening. Duo had tried, but he couldn't figure that part out. And it was getting so hard not to believe the lie they kept telling him.

Hard not to believe that they loved him-and not only despite that, but _because _of that, they wouldn't leave him.

"Stop thinking so hard." Heero ordered, his tone amused.

"Hmm?" Duo, foggy with drugs and sleep, and distracted by his thoughts, didn't register the words.

"You're straining yourself thinking, idiot." Heero's words were sharp, but his voice betrayed fondness and concern.

"What, and listen to you?" Duo smiled, teasing back, trying to swallow his initial annoyance at Heero's high-handed attitude.

"Couldn't hurt. We're right, after all." Heero smirked, and his tone had a teasing quality to it, but the remark was edged.

Duo sighed, and then tried not to gasp as Heero carefully lowered him to the couch. He'd started experiencing dizziness and vertigo more and more lately. Him, a former Gundam pilot. It was almost laughable.

"Okay?" Heero was asking, and he managed a weak nod while suppressing a shiver, not seeing Heero's narrowed eyes. It was cold down here. He hated being cold.

Then warm arms and a warm blanket were wrapping themselves around him. Wufei. He hadn't even noticed the other man on the couch, arranging himself so Duo was half reclined against the other's warm body.

"Better?" Wufei's voice was a deep rumble against his ear, and Duo nodded and relaxed, eyes closing and letting himself sag against Wufei's solid strength. He refused to think about the fact that all he'd done in the last few hours was sleep and be carried downstairs. Wasn't he the guy that had been able to run 10 miles and pilot a gundam and take out a whole battalion of Ozzie troops, all before breakfast? Wasn't he the guy that could work all day and party all night and never stop smiling? Wasn't he the guy that could sneak into a secure facility and steal blueprints and evade a swarm of military issue detection-bots, without even breaking a sweat?

Wasn't he the guy that took a licking and kept on ticking?

"No, don't sleep. Heero made some soup, and it's very very good. I had a little earlier. So have some, and then you can stay down here for a while, ok? Heero's going to make up the fire, maybe we'll watch a movie or something."

Eyes still closed, Duo smiled. "'Kay. Just resting." He was suddenly so tired. He didn't want to eat anything, but he decided to humour 'Fei. Heero would probably be a few minutes, anyway-he just needed a moment or two.

He felt lips brush the top of his head, his cheek, felt fingers stroke lightly against his face. "Good." Then he heard Wufei's voice rise slightly. "Heero, bring some aspirin, if you can?"

Duo's smile faded. Couldn't 'Fei just kiss him without some ulterior motive? And he felt fine. He'd know if he was feverish—fevers made him feel tired and cold, and he was relaxed and warm right now. He was fine.

He felt Wufei move slightly, adjusting the blanket; he felt the touch of cool air before the blanket was tucked around him again as he was moved to sit up. The smell of warm soup assailed him, and he fought down the urge to gag. Really, he didn't want any.

"No … " he mumbled, opening his eyes and pushing the soup away.

"Yes," said Heero, implacably. "The soup's good and it's simple chicken broth—you like it, and it's easy on the stomach. You have to have a little." The voice was firm, but Heero's eyes were scared and pleading.

He tried. God knows he tried, but it wasn't long before he was throwing up both the soup and whatever else he'd eaten in the last half day, with Wufei holding his hair and rubbing his back, and Heero standing in a corner cursing, and he just wishing he could _die_ already, because this …

This sucked.

* * *

He's sleeping.

And gods, he's lost so much weight, throwing up anything we manage to persuade him to eat—I think we'll have to have Sally over, get her to start him on IV fluids again. He won't like it, he'll refuse, but he won't be given a choice.

I wonder, sometimes, if he hates us for that.

Duo's always been independent—hell, he grew up on the streets, he had to be—and he chafes against our caring. Both 'Fei and I can see that, and we've tried to be patient, tried to understand-but sometimes, sometimes he makes it so difficult.

He has never let himself lean on us—no, not even after all this time. He has bad days sometimes—hell, we all do. Sometimes for a normal, everyday reason: work, luck, whatever. Sometimes, though, it's because of our pasts: a memory, an involuntary reaction to something that triggers a flashback, some awkward idiot knowing too much and understanding too little of our pasts. But when we do, Wufei and I come home and growl and bark and snap, and he understands; ignoring what we say and do, he is quick to comfort us. And Wufei and I have learnt to allow ourselves that comfort.

But he never admits to his own upset or distress, instead he hides it from us, as if he would be chastised for letting his smile slip.

We started to learn the signs; we had to when he wouldn't use words, and because his signs were not ours: rather than irritable and snappish, an upset Duo was often just a little too cheerful, a little too enthusiastic, a little too annoyingly hyper, our snapped comments or insults rolling off him or instigating even more outrageous behaviour. It had been odd to learn that a relaxed Duo was actually often fairly subdued; the determined cheer and forced hyperactivity was a red flag for tension or misery. Once we got to know him a bit better, it was easy to spot; once we figured it out, we made sure on those nights to indulge him. To not react to his outrageousness with rebukes, but rather to reassure him of our love and acceptance. Not to feed his misery and insecurity by snapping or insulting him. And on those nights we watched, waiting for the inevitable nightmares-the one thing he couldn't evade, or escape, or run from. He always thought he woke us now; he didn't need to know that we took turns at waiting up, waiting for the quiet shudders and soft gasps so we could wake him and hold him and soothe away whatever it was he ran from in the day, but couldn't evade in his sleep.

Sometimes he didn't even sleep, and those nights usually stretched into days. Those weeks were the worst; watching him ache, watching him try to hide it, letting him pretend he succeeded, and not allowing ourselves to offer him the comfort we believed he needed, the comfort he would not accept.

I used to think it was pride, but was sad to learn it was fear; he'd never felt he could lean on anyone, not even us, and if pushed, he just got evasive or, if pushed too hard-defensive and angry. And when Duo got angry he had only two reactions: Fight or Leave. Since he wouldn't fight either of us, he left. I've had a couple of horrible nights, worrying, and so has Wufei. Wondering, terrified that he might never come back—Duo has never been one for promises, for declarations or absolutes. But so far, he has always returned. So far.

I watch as Wufei covers Duo with another blanket—he's been shivering, and he's sensitive to the cold. L2 is a warm colony, and their winters are mild—he's never quite gotten used to the colder temperatures. Plus, he's got a fever, which brings with it chills—he never complains about anything much, but it's easy to see. I watch as Wufei draws him closer and Duo settles into the embrace, a small smile on his face. It's an uncomfortable position for 'Fei, but Duo is resting more easily than he did upstairs, and I know Fei doesn't mind.

"It's ok … " mutters Duo.

"What's ok?" asks Wufei gently. It always surprises me how gentle my fierce dragon can be.

"The curse … better me than you … glad it worked like this this time … don't worry …"

Wufei's expression changes in an instant, and I move forward to put a warning hand on his arm. 'Fei was always too quick to anger, and the tension in his body rouses Duo, whose smile has faded into an uneasy frown.

"…'thing wrong?" He's only half awake, struggling to awareness.

"No, Duo, go back to sleep. Everything's fine." I step in, keeping my voice low and relaxed.

"'Fei?" Duo's voice is high and distressed.

"Nothing's wrong, stop worrying like an onna. Sleep." Wufei manages to make his tone sound both slightly irritated and soothing, and despite the very real anger in his eyes, I could see him forcing his muscles to relax as he runs a hand over Duo's hair and over the side of his face caressingly. Duo responds accordingly, settling back down. Wufei looks up, and I can see the frustration in his eyes.

"Not now," I warn, and see my lover nod in terse agreement. Duo needs rest, not argument right now.

But in Wufei's eyes, I could see my own despair.

* * *

_A/N: May be a while before much more ... but I will get to it! And as always, feedback is love :-)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

_A/N: As you might have guessed, the timeline for the last few chapters and for the next few will be mostly linear, even though this jumped around for the first few. This is a short chapter-sorry. Comments etc. always appreciated. Thanks for reading!_

_

* * *

_"This isn't fair! Please Heero, I listened to everything! Please don't …"

There were tears of frustration in Duo's eyes, and it hurt me to see them, but the IV was necessary. Sally was concerned about how dehydrated and weak he'd become, and she was right—we should have called her earlier. I shouldn't have let Duo's opposition to it, and Heero's fear of Duo's anger, influence me as much as it had.

"This isn't a punishment, Duo, you know that. It's about what's best for you." I answered for Heero, because Heero was apt to give in, and Duo knew it. Knew it and was using it for leverage I couldn't blame him. Duo wasn't being rational—the drugs and pain robbing him of reason-but watching him cry and beg, restrained on the bed, was heartbreaking, making Heero almost as crazy.

I went up to Heero and wrapped my arms around him in support. "It's for the best, Heero. You know he needs it." Heero nodded, but his eyes were full of fear and desperation. He looked terrified and the lost expression in his eyes was as unlike Heero as I've ever seen.

Sally wanted Duo in hospital. I hadn't made that decision yet—I honestly didn't know what to do, and he wasn't at the point yet that we couldn't manage at home. But when the time came, it would be my decision, I knew that. Neither Duo nor Heero were capable of logical thought anymore.

But there was no right answer. A hospital wouldn't save our lover. Nothing would, except an effective treatment, and they hadn't found one yet. He was dying.

Would it be better for him to spend his final days in hospital, comfortably drugged and with a medical team available to deal with emergencies, but hating every minute, hating that loss of control, knowing we were the ones who forced him to spend his last days and hours like that? Or would it be better to give into his wishes, allow him the choice, knowing we'd cut days and maybe weeks off his life even with the best home care, knowing he was in preventable agony and without access to the medical technology that could, if available, save his life in minutes? The technology that could extend his life and keep him strong enough to live for the day when they'd find the treatment, or even a cure-if they found it? Or would it simply trap him in a horror that he did not want, until the day he finally died?

What kind of a choice was that anyway?

Heero didn't want to admit the possibility they wouldn't find the cure. Became angry if I even suggested it. But I was a realist. I knew it could happen.

But even trying, as much as possible, to look objectively at the situation didn't help. I wasn't objective, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know, and almost hated both Duo and Heero for forcing me to be the one to make this decision on my own.

I wanted to call Quatre or Trowa. I wanted to hear Quatre's wisdom, because he understood the human heart far better than I did. I wanted to hear Trowa's calm, quiet reason guide me through this decision. I needed both of them desperately.

I couldn't call them.

Quatre's sister had died, just days before, in a random factory accident. Between dealing with funeral arrangements, the safety inspection, and his own personal grief at Sophia's loss, Quatre had his hands full, and Trowa with him. I couldn't call them. Not right now.

And deep down, deep down I knew the answer. I knew that even if it was the wrong choice, even if I disagreed—it was Duo's decision. It had to be Duo's decision.

Even if it killed us all.


End file.
